That Night
by xLazyxWriterx
Summary: Warren makes the drugs, Nathan sells them. It used to be that simple until Mark Jefferson entered the picture with his twisted fetish. Warning: Drug/Alcohol Abuse, Harsh Language, Sexual/Rape Situations, Dark Themes


**A/N: Hey there, Strangers. Ughhh...Okay, I've been on tumblr again. That dark place is the reason for this fic. Where this idea even came from and how it evolved is beyond me, but it's been bouncing around in my head for the past two weeks, and it demands to be written! I wasn't planning on writing anything else until Episode 3 came out and I had the time to over analyze it but - OOPSIE DOODLE! - here I am. Damn it. I do want to say that I LOVE Warren, and I don't think this is his true character, but I wrote him this way for the sake of the story.  
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 **Warning: Drug/Alcohol Use, Harsh Language, Sexual/Rape Situations, Thoughts of Suicide, Dark Themes  
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 **Enjoy?**

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 **That Night**

 **by**

 **xLazyxWriterx**

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His lips had become tender, and his nails were bitten down short enough to be painful. His teeth tugged at his bottom lip when they weren't nibbling on his thumb nail. His fingertips tapped against the steering wheel, his leg bouncing, and his eyes averted down at his lap. The heat surrounding him caused a light sweat on his forehead and his heart beat irregularly in his chest. His fingers twitched, and he released his lip to chew on his pinky nail. His head throbbed painfully as the past few weeks flashed through his mind in mere seconds.

Nathan Prescott pulled his fingers away from his mouth and wrapped both hands around the steering wheel tightly. He glanced out the window at the house he had parked a few houses away from, and an unwelcome lump formed in his throat. How the fuck could he be back here? His swollen lips pressed together in a tight line, and he swallowed the lump, not allowing it surface and ruin him. His knuckles were white and the veins that ran along his hand became more prominent. He closed his eyes, but then instantly opened them. The darkness behind his lids only brought him images of rain clouds, camera flashes, tousled blonde hair, chemicals, and a gold cross. He forced himself to breathe properly; in and out, in and out...

He ran his hands through his light brown hair, sitting back in his seat. "Fuck," the word was barely audible as it escaped his lips. The lump was back, and he swallowed it once more. He inhaled deeply, attempting to slow his heart rate.

He always ended up back here. He didn't have a choice.

Nathan unlocked the car door, pushing it open and climbing out. He slammed it shut much harder than he intended to, the noise causing his body to flinch. He looked down the darkening street, then up at the sky. Dark clouds covered magenta and orange skies, and the scent of earthy rain still lingered in the air. Small puddles were drying on the side walks and streets, and the air was cooling. He sighed lightly, enjoying the fresh air in comparison to the muggy heat that collected in his vehicle.

His legs became heavy, but he forced them to move along the sidewalk towards the house, mentally telling himself to keep breathing. The house wasn't too large or extravagant; it looked just like the rest of the houses in the neighborhood. Except, this house had a blue door. The other houses had white doors...but not Mark Jefferson's house.

Nathan reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys as he approached the blue door. He noticed that his car wasn't in the drive way; he must still be at the school. He was probably upset about that hero's contest. Nathan fumbled with the keys before managing to shove the right on into the hole, twisting it open. He pushed himself inside and was greeted by the smell of leather and vanilla. He wrinkled his nose, rubbing at it in an attempt to get the overwhelming smell from burning his nostrils. He kicked the door shut behind him, locking it. The room was dark, but not dark enough that Nathan couldn't make out his surroundings. He crossed the living room and made his way to the kitchen. He grabbed a glass of cold water and chugged it down. It refreshed his dry throat and cooled his insides. He set the glass in the sink, wiping his mouth and suppressing a hiccup that was caught in the back of his throat. He cleared his throat and leaned against the counter.

It had been a shitty day - a shitty year. The images made the blood boil in his veins and the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention. He wanted to tug at his brown locks and scream until his voice became dry and silent, his throat raw and scorched. He wanted to let his bottomless fury take over and give him the peace of darkness until it was all over. Then, he would wake up in the middle of a disaster caused by his own hands. A disaster worse than all of this.

A shaky breath escaped him, and he found that his body was trembling with pent up rage. Breathe; in and out, in and out... Nathan pushed away from the counter and want through the hall that led to the back of the house. There, he found yet another blue door. He had grown to despise that particular shade of blue; it brought nothing but weakness and pain. He didn't bother grabbing his keys since he knew that the door was already unlocked.

The blue door revealed a set of wooden stairs that led to the basement. His heavy steps caused them to creek, announcing his presence. At the bottom of the stairs, he was greeted with a familiar sight.

Warren Graham has his back turned to Nathan. He was standing over a desk, sorting pictures and flipping through the hefty red binder. A half empty bottle of whiskey stood beside an empty glass. Papers and markers were scattered all around, and the laptop was pushed to the side to make room for the binder.

Warren was out of his usual school attire, and instead wore a gray wife-beater that exposed the ink on his right arm; a detailed raven sitting upon a rotting tree branch with red leaves, the script _"'Tis the Wind, and Nothing More,_ " written underneath. Nathan knew that work was the reason for him always wearing those long sleeved shirts. After all, ink like that would blow his cover, right? Warren shifted his weight, and turned to look back at Nathan. Nathan could make out the remains of a bruise under his right eyes. Warren gave a nod of acknowledgement before turning back to pasting pictures onto the pages of the red binder. If the air wasn't cold before, it was now. Nathan turned his gaze to the medium sized box on the floor next to the desk. He approached it, and saw the neatly stacked baggies of pills. Nathan raised a brow, and looked back at Warren.

"This all of it?" he asked, reaching down and pulling out of bag. The pills were a pale blue color, and they were small. He didn't know what the guy did to make such a small pill so effective, but he didn't question it; those pills were good shit. Plus, he didn't need a science lecture or whatever. Warren nodded, not bothering to look up. Nathan tossed the bag back into the box, and flopped down on the brown leather sofa, pulling his leg up to cross over his knee.

The room was dark, the only light source something from the lamp beside the desk, as well as the dim screen of Warren's laptop. It wasn't a large room, and it was cold. He didn't get how Warren could work down here dressed like that, but he didn't seem to care. He was too preoccupied with finishing the binder before Jefferson got back. From what Nathan could see, he didn't have much left. Nathan looked at the bookshelf that cased the other binders, and the hairs on his arm rose. He rubbed at them, attempting to calm his nerves. God, his nerves were getting to him.

The heavy silence was interrupted by the vibration of Warren's back pocket. He set down the pictures he was holding, and pulled his phone out. Nathan saw a flicker of delight dance through Warren's dark eyes as he replied to the messenger. Nathan's fingers gripped at his sleeve tightly, and he eyed the guy. Warren wrote a long message before sending it and placing the phone on the table with a soft sigh. He glanced at Nathan, placing his palms against the edge of the desk, leaning forward. "Shitty day." he mumbled.

Nathan scoffed. "You're telling me..." He continued to scratch at his arm but resisted the urge to pull the sleeve of his jacket up. Being down here made him paranoid and nervous, and that was something he would never admit. Once more, he mentally told himself to breathe. It was the only way to stop the shaking. He uncrossed his legs and sat up straight. Warren pasted the final picture, grabbed a marker, and began writing down something under it. When he was finished, he closed the binder, and picked it up. He turned and placed it on the shelf next to the others.

 **KATE**

Nathan bit his lip as he read the name labeled on the spine. In and out, Nathan. That's what he told himself.

Warren crossed his arms, and held his head low, turning to face Nathan. "What happen in Principal Wells' office?" he asked. Nathan stiffened, and gazed down at his fists.

"You already know," he spat back, not bothering to hide the annoyance in his tone. The whole experience was terrible. The whole time he sat in his chair he was distracted by the constant looks Jefferson continued to throw his way. He hardly remembered anything Wells said before asking Max about what had happened.

"Yeah, but I want to hear your side." Warren met his gaze, and Nathan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees, frowning deeply, his eyebrows furrowed.

"You're bitch got Jefferson booted from that contest," Nathan's scratched at his hand, tasting the blood from his lip. Warren glared at him for his word choice, but Nathan wasn't bothered by it. "I'm sure he's thrilled about that one." he muttered. He heard Warren scoff.

"He's more upset that the plan's changed." Warren said. Nathan rose a brow, and shoved his fists into his pockets. His hand was starting to hurt. "What else happened?"

"Wells boasted about Max and sent us on our way." Nathan shrugged. "I thought she would've blamed me."

"She doesn't have any physical proof on you." Warren frowned. "All she has is words." Warren shook his head, moving back to the desk to clean up. Once it was clean, he poured some of the whiskey into his glass and swallowed it, his face contorting in disgust as he muffled a cough. Nathan almost snickered, but decided against it.

They sat in silence once more, and Nathan was getting twitchy. He stood, and began walking around, aware of Warrens eyes on him. Nathan decided that he had held his tongue long enough. "How's Kate?" The words left quickly, and he could hear his own distress.

"On suicide watch. Max said they would give us more info tomorrow." he replied. Nathan nodded. In and out...in and out... Nathan closed his eyes, and ran his fingers through his hair. Warren narrowed his eyes at him. "She almost jumped."

In and out...

"She tried to kill her self."

In...

"Kate almost died today."

...and out...

Nathan nodded once more, attempting to fight the dizziness that was trying to overcome him. "That's not on us," he whispered. Warren gave a dry laugh, pouring more whiskey. He approached Nathan, offering him the glass. Nathan took it, forcing his hand to keep steady.

"It kind of is," Warren said. "and you know it." Nathan couldn't stop his hand from shaking now. He knew Warren was right; the fucker usually was. Nathan clutched the glass in his hand tightly, refusing to meet Warren's eyes. Warren crossed his arms, and sighed. He turned to face the bookshelf, studying the multiple matching red binders that occupied the space. He reached and traced the spines with his fingers, frowning.

Nathan chewed on his lip. Kate wasn't their problem; they weren't - were - NO - the reason she was on the roof. No! It was that fucking video that Victoria spread around campus. Victoria was the bitch at fault, not them. Kate didn't have any idea about what happened to her. She was too wasted and everything was blurred around her. Her eyes had been so foggy that night to the point that he could barely recognize her. She was so loud and giggly, and she threw herself at multiple guys. Nathan hadn't seen anything like it. He closed his eyes, and saw her flushed face that held her wide grin and hazy eyes. Her speech was slurred and hardly anyone could understand her. He sat back during that party and watched as the drugs took their affect on little Miss Kate Marsh.

He didn't understand it. Why the fuck would she even be a target? Jefferson wasn't interested in her type; quiet, religious, pure, small, fragile. He liked the girls who were gorgeous, confident, who lacked innocence and spat fire. Popular, beautiful girls were what made Jefferson tick. Something was different about Kate, and Nathan could never put his finger on it. He had always seen her in the halls, and he had watched her. He had to. There was something alluring - fuck - about her, though Nathan didn't know what it was. That frustrated him to the point of insanity. He remembered watching her sit peacefully outside during lunch, and he had wanted to go over there and grab her by her honey colored hair, jerk her up, and throw her down to the ground. He didn't - he couldn't - though, he had controlled the confusing urge. He had hated Kate and everything she stood for, and he wanted her gone but -

But...?

But that was awful. How could he not - ?

Fuck...

He would be the first to admit it - but he never would - and it was one of the very few things that him and Warren agreed upon. That night -

Nathan's knuckles her white, and he felt at though the bones were going to break through the flesh. His head swirled - the dizziness - and his throat tightened, burning. His body twitched, heated with overwhelming rage. The glass left his hand and smashed against the wall. Warren jumped at the sudden action.

"The fuck, man!?" he exclaimed, and his hand twitched towards the bottle of whiskey, as if it were a weapon. Nathan was breathing - in and out - heavily, his fists clutched tightly, his face warm. He whipped his head around to look at Warren, glaring at him. Warren gave him a confused look, but before he could speak, Nathan took a step towards him.

"This is bullshit!" Nathan shouted.

"What?"

"How the fuck can you put these together?!" Nathan asked, motioning to the binders. Warren's look of confusion turned to a hard stare. He was repressing any true emotion, and Nathan knew it.

"I don't have a choice." Warren replied, harshly. Nathan snorted, shaking his head and wiping his mouth. Warren took a step towards him with a hard scowl. "What? You think I _like_ this? You think I _like_ looking at those pictures and recording every sick detail?"

"You must if you keep doing it!" Nathan spat back. The two now faced each other, merely inches apart, glares meeting.

"I don't have a fucking choice, Prescott, and you know it!" Warren argued. Nathan rolled his eyes.

"There's always a ch-"

"Not here. Not with him. You _know_ that, damn it!" Warren's voice was raising, his jaw tightening.

"Tell him to fuck off-"

"Oh yeah, like how you did?" Warren cut him off. "Tell me, how did that go for you last time?" Nathan stepped back as if burned, and heat swelled within him. All his pent up energy was soaking through him, and telling himself to breathe was no longer helping the situation. How _dare_ that motherfucker! Did he really just sink that low?

Warren knew that he had brought up something the two of them had silently agreed upon never mentioning again. He instantly regretted it, but was too angry to apologize. That night had been beyond awful, and he had just brought it up like it was an everyday event. Nathan glared at him with red eyes, he visibly shook, and Warren braced himself for a swinging fist.

"Fuck you." Nathan practically growled. He turned away from Warren, his eyes squeezed shut. In and out...

Warren sighed, rolling his neck from side to side. He hated when they fought. It always made his neck and shoulders tense and painful. They usually got along - well, got along as well as they could - so that Jefferson wouldn't punish them for misbehaving. He was glad Jefferson wasn't home at the moment, or they both would have regretted it. Warren had made a promise to not argue with Nathan after that night, but damn it, he just had to pick at him. How did he not understand, especially after that night? Jefferson put him in charge of the binders and making the drugs, and he was going to listen. Jefferson put Nathan in charge of selling the drugs and pursuing the targets, and he was going to listen. Otherwise, there would be another repeat of that disgusting night. Warren didn't want another repeat. He was just barely beginning to look Nathan in the eyes again without wanting to break down.

Warren approached Nathan, staring at the back of his red jacket. "You didn't take your meds today." he mumbled. Nathan shook his head slowly. Warren sighed. "I'm sorry." He tried to make it not sound forced, because it wasn't. He had issues with showing emotions when it came to being down in this basement. How could he smile down here?

Nathan walked away from him and sat back down on the couch. Silence.

Minutes passed before Warren heard Nathan ask, "How long are you gonna be able to keep this up?" Warren frowned, and he started picking at his cuticles.

"I don't know." he answered honestly. He didn't know how much more he could take before he broke down into insanity...or killed himself. It was a thought that occasionally crossed his mind while down here. If he did, he wouldn't have to deal with Jefferson, or Nathan. The worst part, though, is that he felt guilty for thinking about it, not because it was a sin, but because then Nathan would be left alone. With Jefferson. He couldn't do that, even to someone like Nathan Prescott.

Nathan ran his fingers through his hair. "She's next, y'know."

Warren nodded slowly. "I know." he replied weakly.

"And you're gonna go with it? You're gonna let him do it again?"

Warren's chest tightened, and his eyes started to sting. "I don't have a choice." he whispered.

Nathan gave a slow sigh. "I know." He rubbed at his eyes. He let out a dry laugh. "I'm so fucking glad she blamed him. She doesn't even realize that she saved herself."

Warren rubbed his neck. Before he could reply, the sound of a door closing echoed through the house. The two instantly tensed, looking at each other. The sound of keys hitting the table was heard, and Nathan suddenly found it hard to breathe. His breath caught in his tightening throat, and he began sweating. He began heaving as his body violently shook. Warren instantly rushed to Nathan's side, placing both hands on his shoulders.

"Hey, look at me." he whispered quietly. He could hear the sounds of footsteps, and Warren could tell they were from upstairs in the bedroom. Nathan stared down at the floor, and Warren shook him a bit. " _Nathan_ ," he said more harshly while still whispering. Nathan's eyes shot up to meet his. "Listen, it's okay. Just breathe, remember? In and out, okay? We're _fine_. He's not going to hurt us if we stay calm."

Nathan nodded quickly. He began breathing heavily.

"In..." Warren said softly.

In...

"...and out."

...and out.

They did it a few more times before Nathan got it under control. He nodded at Warren to let him know he was okay, and Warren let go of his shoulders. Nathan stood from the couch, shaking his hands out, attempting to rid himself of his fidgety nerves. The steps were getting closer, and Warren checked the time on his phone. 8:34. He was late, and Warren figured that it had to do with the events of the day. He was getting closer, and Warren checked to make sure the desk was clean, and that the binders were neatly shelved. He put the whiskey away in one of the drawers, and remembered the glass that was shattered against the wall and piled on the floor. _Damn it, Nathan._

He wouldn't have time to clean it up, but he could hide it for the time being. We quickly moved to the wall, and pulled a leather chair that matched the sofa to sit over it. It would have to do for the time being. He would have to clean it up later. Nathan sent him a apologetic look, and flinched at the sound of a door opening. Nathan sat himself on the couch while Warren knelt down by the box of drugs, pretending to count them.

The stairs creaked at Mark Jefferson entered the basement. He had on his while button down shirt and a pair of black slacks. His eyes were tired behind his thick framed glasses, and his hair was messier than usual. He scratched at his neck, a small smile spreading across his lips. "Gentlemen." he greeted. Nathan gave him a nod of acknowledgement, and Warren turned and gave a small wave.

Nathan eyed Jefferson as he approached Warren. Warren stood, the box of drugs in hand. Jefferson, the same smile plastered on his face, grabbed one of the baggies. He studied the small blue pills that occupied them before looking at Warren, patting him on the shoulder. Warren did his best to not cringe away.

"Nice job. This should last us a few weeks." he beamed, his hand lingering on Warren's tattooed arm. Nathan's jaw tightened as Jefferson turned to him, hand still on Warren. "Have you collected the money?"

Nathan inhaled, and reached into his jean pocket, pulling out a wad of cash. He stood, and handed it to Jefferson. Jefferson accepted it, finally releasing Warren's shoulder. He counted it, and Warren could still feel the sickly heat on his shoulder and he fought back a shiver. Jefferson smiled, exposing his perfect, white teeth. He pocketed the money, sighing.

"I want you two to know that I understand. Today was a hard day, but it's alright now." he grinned. "Principal Wells is looking into the matter. We have no need for worry." Warren and Nathan forced themselves to nod, but didn't say anything. Jefferson crossed his arms, his smile faltering. "But, now we have a different problem. Since I am no longer flying out to LA with Miss Caulfield, we need a new strategy." His expression was thoughtful, his voice soft. Warren clutched the sides of his shirt, his jaw tightening. Nathan continued to look back and forth between Warren and Jefferson, attempting to hide his nervous expression.

Jefferson smiled at Warren. "Did you talk to her after the meeting?"

"Yes." Warren replied, stiffly. "She talked about Kate, and what happened on the roof. She still worried about her, and the video. She...she thinks something 'ominous' is going on at Blackwell, and that Kate and Rachel are somehow connected." Warren glanced at Nathan. "...Along with Madsen. I tried asking her what she thought was happening, but then the eclipse..." Warren's voice trailed off. Jefferson nodded in understanding.

"There wasn't one scheduled today?"

"No." Warren replied firmly.

Jefferson scratched his chin, thinking. "'Ominous,' hm?" he gave a deep chuckle. "Thank you, Warren. And, you finished the book?" Jefferson turned to the bookcase and pulled out Kate's book before Warren could answer. He flipped through the pages, his eyes brightening, his face lighting up with color, and his mouth twisting into a satisfied grin. Nathan felt his stomach twist as Jefferson ran his fingers over the pages and read the words. He walked to them, excitement filling his tone. "Look at these. Such beauty illuminating from such a figure." He closed his eyes, as if to remember that night and the feelings surrounding it.

Nathan bit his lip, and gazed down at the floor. He felt nauseated, and the shaking was back. Warren shot his a warning look which Nathan caught. In and out...

Jefferson closed the book shut, and Nathan couldn't help but jump at the noise. Jefferson beamed at the both of them. "Now, let's not get too excited." he laughed. He placed the binder back on the shelf, rubbing his hands together. "Warren, I need you to do something."

Warren's eyes widened a bit, but he kept his composure. "Alright."

Jefferson, still smiling, approached him. "You and Max get along well, I see that. I like that. Now, I need you closer. Much closer. She trusts you, and that's good." Jefferson placed his hands on Warren's cheeks. Warren froze, eyes wide. Nathan stood to attention, fists clenched, ready to pounce at any moment. "Warren," Jefferson whispered cooly, "I need you to take her out; a simple outgoing, date or not. Just the two of you. I don't care how you do it, but bring her to me unconscious. But, remember, no bruises or blood that will show. We wouldn't want to ruin her, right?"

Warren swallowed hard, compelling himself to maintain eye contact. If he broke it, he would be sorry. Jefferson brought his face closer, and mumbled. "Can you do that for me...?"

Nathan's heart was wild, and his legs were heavy. He couldn't control the glaring rage that took over his features. He about screamed in animalistic rage when he heard Warren breathe out, "Yes." Nathan wanted nothing more that to grab a piece of glass from under that fucking chair and slit Jefferson's throat. After that, he would grab Warren and they would get the fuck out of this. He didn't - he couldn't - because Jefferson would see it coming. Nathan wouldn't be fast enough. Then, he would do to Warren what -

Jefferson ran his thumb under Warren's bruised eye. "I thought you two would've gotten over your differences by now." He shot Nathan a look from the corner of his eyes, and all coherent thoughts flew out his ears and were replaced with chilling fear. Jefferson was waiting for Nathan to make a move, _daring_ him to.

Jefferson slowly let go of Warren's face, his fingers running along his skin. Warren held his breath, choking back any emotion. His face stung with the sensations those disgusting fingers left behind. Jefferson headed for the stairs, but stopped to look at Nathan. Nathan knew he was like an open book, but he didn't care. Jefferson smiled at him, and Nathan had to sink his teeth into his lip to prevent any outburst.

Jefferson winked at him. "Keep it up, Nathan. You're doing great." His words mocked him, and he chuckled as he climbed the stairs. "Excuse me, gentlemen, but I'm retiring early. You can let yourselves out." A few more creaking steps, a door slamming shut, and he was gone.

Nathan was instantly by Warren's side. Warren rubbed at his face, trying to rid himself of the shadows of Jefferson's fingers. The two studied each other. Nathan's stare was filled with red hatred, and Warren's with guilt and embarrassment. The silence was broken with the noise of Jefferson walking in the kitchen.

They both waited, staring at each other. Nathan shook his head, and Warren turned his back to him, leaning over the desk, forcing the air to come from his lungs slowly. At this point, he was afraid to even blink. More creaking, and some whistling. Nathan pulled his sleeve up and tore at his flesh with his fingernails. Blood dripped from his lip and slid down his chin.

Warren's eyes stung, and he trembled lightly.

After what felt like an eternity, the soft sound of a door clicking and piano music echoed through the room. Jefferson was in his bedroom.

Warren let out a painful gasp, allowing himself to properly breathe for the first time in minutes. He rubbed at his eyes while turning back to Nathan. He frowned at the blood dripping from his chin, and reached out to grab the wrist of the hand that was tearing apart his arm. "Stop." he said firmly.

"We could kill him." Nathan hissed.

"Don't be stupid."

"I think you're forgetting who I am-"

"And I think you're forgetting who _he_ is."

"He's no one!" Nathan growled, breaking free of Warren's grip. "We could kill him. Tonight. Then all this fucking shit ends."

Warren shook his head. "We can't kill him." Nathan let out a frustrated snarl, turning away from Warren. "That's not who we are-"

"Oh really?" Nathan spat. " _Rachel_."

"No!" Warren grabbed Nathan's shoulder, turning him so that they were facing each other once again. "We didn't kill Rachel. He did. That wasn't us!"

"We helped, Warren! We..." Nathan pulled at his hair. "...We held her down while he..."

" _Stop_." Warren choked.

"He's going to do it again. To Max! Are you going to be the one to hold her down while he fucks her? Are you going to drug her and bring her here? Are you going to pose her for his fucking psychotic photo shoot?" Nathan stepped closer. "You're going to fight it, and then he'll hurt you." Nathan's eyes were red now, as were Warren's.

Warren shook his head. "I don't have a choice."

"That's bullshit and you know it!" Nathan grabbed the front of Warren's wife-beater. "We take care of this fucker tonight, and it's over. Then we can _forget_!"

"He'll know." Warren whispered. Nathan shook him.

" _Warren_ , that fucker is going to keep doing this unless we take care of him! He go up there, shove a gun in his mouth, and he's gone!"

Warren scoffed. "You're gonna shoot him, huh? Yeah, like how you shot Chloe after she fucked you over?"

Nathan's eyes narrowed. "How the fuck do you know about that?"

"Max. Chloe's her best friend. She told me everything that went down in the bathroom. You fucked up."

"She has no proof, remember? Fuck, that's not the point!" Nathan released Warren, and reached into his jacket, pulling the hand gun out. Warren took a step back, shocked.

"You brought that here?" he hissed. "Do you have any idea what the fuck would happen if he knew you have that?"

"I brought it in case he tried something on you." Nathan replied, bitterly. Warren was a bit taken back by his words. The two stood in silence once again.

Warren and Nathan had history. They knew each other long before Blackwell Academy. They were both just as fucked up back then.

Warren Graham had lost himself at some point when he was younger. Depression ran in his family, and it's what took his grandfather, his aunt, and his eldest sister. Warren stood on the brink of something he could never describe. The weight of everything seemed to press down on his shoulders and he struggled to take even a single step forward. It was too much. All of it. And somehow, he kept moving, but every step cost him. The darkness grew darker; the pain grew sharper; all of it seemed to only grow in strength and he began to wonder if things could ever get better.

But, what made it better? Alcohol. His made his mind fuzzy, and brought light in the darkness. But, why stop there? He thought about what he knew about drugs; he spent hours studying the side affects of different drugs, and spent time deciding which to take. He started with prescription drugs from his mother's purse.

He didn't know how, but eventually, those weren't enough. He needed something stronger.

Nathan Prescott came from the wealthiest, most powerful family in Arcadia Bay. His family was all about appearance, and having a son that suffered from severe anxiety was unacceptable. He needed to be fixed, and his family used their power and money to do so. He was on multiple medications, and met with a therapist once a week. It was bullshit, all of it. The prescribed drugs made him numb, and sucked the life out of him. He started putting the meds under his tongue before spitting them out at a later time to not get caught. The constant pressure and control from his family turned him to blow and weed.

Somehow, he started dealing to other students. That's how he met Warren. And, that's how they met Jefferson.

Enrollments for Blackwell Academy had started, and Warren and Nathan met by the boys dorm, in a dark corner, to make a deal. Jefferson found them.

Now...here they were. They were forced to help Jefferson with his fucking perverted fetish. Jefferson loved women; they were his main subjects in his photography. What did Jefferson love more? A woman caught in the darkness, exposing a moment of weakness and desperation. Ruined. Hurt. Destroyed.

Mark Jefferson blackmailed both of them. He disregarded Nathan and his threats, because he had proof of what Nathan really was. If his family found out, he would be disowned and thrown away. That's what kept Nathan quiet. The threat and fear of pain is what kept Warren.

They lost track of how many girls they drugged and brought to Jefferson. It was the same every time; they targeted a girl, traced her every step, learned all there was to know about her, drugged her, brought her to Jefferson's basement, watch as Jefferson had his way with her - he liked it when they watched - and then set the unconscious body in different poses while Jefferson took picture. Warren and Nathan tried to get out of watching, and it was the worst part. That was the first night Jefferson ever pulled a knife on them. Nathan ended up with a sliced chest, and Warren bandaged him up. They never argued with Jefferson about, and watched as he molested multiple girls.

The worst one, though, was Kate.

Kate wasn't the usual victim. Warren remembered Nathan carrying her down the stairs that night. Jefferson hadn't arrived yet, and Nathan suggested they book it out with Kate. Jefferson showed up before they could carry out the plan. He told them to strip her, and Nathan lost control. He didn't - did - care about Kate, no, no. Nathan couldn't do it again. Jefferson and Nathan screamed until Jefferson struck Nathan, and Warren grabbed him. Jefferson had pushed Warren off, grabbed a brand new bottle of wine, and slammed it over Warren's head. Warren fell back, and he heard Nathan shouting before he blacked out.

When he came to, his wrists were bound behind his, as were his feet. His hair was soaked with blood, and he could still feel shards of glass lodged into his scalp. His vision was blurry, but he could hear everything. He was horrified by what was displayed in front of him. The lights were set up, and a white blanket spread across the floor. Cameras were set up, one for recording, and one for pictures. Nathan was on on his back, naked, with Kate on top on him, facing him, with Jefferson pumping into her, small camera in hand. Nathan was bound, gagged and blind folded, and Kate was only in her white cotton bra. Jefferson was fully clothed, his dick sticking out of his slacks.

Warren wanted to scream, but he found that he had been gagged as well. The overwhelming situation was enough to cause him to pass out.

When he come to once more, he was no longer tied up. He was laying on the couch, his body sore and his head throbbing. When he sat up, he had Nathan curled up under the desk, the while blanket wrapped around himself. His cheek was red, and he had marks all over his chest. Warren was on his feet and rushing to Nathan, who was hyperventilating. Nathan was still naked, and his clothes were missing. Everything was missing; the lights, camera, Kate, Jefferson...

Jefferson had locked them in the basement for the rest of the night. Nathan didn't speak, and Warren offered him one of his shirts. The shirt was a bit snug on Nathan, but it helped him feel less exposed. Warren picked the glass out of his head, his thoughts racing. What the fuck were they supposed to do? What the fuck happened? What the fuck was he going to do with Nathan? He didn't know what to say. What could he possibly say in a situation like this?

Morning came, and Jefferson came down. Nathan was still cowering under the desk, and Warren was too terrified to say anything. He just stayed sitting in front of Nathan. Jefferson had smiled at them. "Last night was fun. It's too bad you two had to misbehave. It was rather rude, but I'm sure you won't be trying anything like that again." His tone was smooth, almost charming. It made Warren's stomach churn. He continued, "Because, next time, I won't be so nice, _Nathan,_ " he smirked, "Next time, you'll be ripped open. Interpret that as you will. Warren, the same applies to you. I've been very kind to you both, and we have a great thing going here. We have fun. I don't want that to end because of a misunderstanding. Remember your places, gentleman." With that, he left. He left the house, leaving the basement door wide open.

The night was burned with in them both. That night was eight weeks ago, but it was still so fresh. Since that night, they never question Jefferson, or fought him. They sat back, and watched him violate all levels purity. Nathan still never told him exactly what went down. All he knew was that Jefferson hadn't touched Nathan, but he had taken pictures of him with Kate. One step out of line, and not only would he be "ripped open," but those pictures would be every where, and Nathan's life would be officially over. There was only so much that his family could cover up.

Nathan went back on his medication after that night.

Since that night, Warren did everything in his power to protect himself and Nathan, as well as any girl that Jefferson set his sights on. His new interest was Max. Warren forced himself to come on to strong so that Max would push away, but some how...the two became close friends. He cared about Max... a lot. They shared so many interests, interests that Warren forget about how much he loved. Max made him smile, _really_ smile. She made him feel good, and it hurt every nerve in his body to know what was going to happen when Jefferson got a hold of her. Nathan scolded him for it, saying that it was dangerous to get too close. Nathan had been like a zombie at that time, his meds fully kicking in.

Today was the first time in a long time that he had been with Nathan when he wasn't on his meds. He had stopped taking them after the Chloe incident, and that was about three weeks ago. This was the first time they've gotten together like his in a while...

Silence.

Warren looked at the ground, his chin quivering. His eyes were sore, and he allowed the tears to fall. "I'm sorry." he mumbled, wiping his eyes. Nathan eye's widened. "We can't just kill him, Nathan. The police will investigate his house. Our fingerprints are everywhere, and we have no idea where he did those photos. It wouldn't work."

Nathan scowled. "Then, we burn this fucker down." Warren wiped at his running nose. Nathan stepped closer. "We kill him, and burn it down. That'll burn any evidence, right?"

Warren thought for a moment, and nodded.

"Alright, then. Let's do it. That fucker can't keep doing this, and you know it." Warren continued to nod. He knew Nathan was right, but he wasn't sure if he was ready to feel the weight of another death on his shoulders yet. "He'll hurt you."

"I know."

"This fucker needs to burn."

"Not tonight." he said. "We need to plan."

Nathan smirked, placing a hand on Warren's shoulder. "Fuck yeah."

* * *

 **A/N: Dear, God. What did I write? Ah geez. My mind took a dark turn again. My apologies. I'm terribly sorry, truly. Please, forgive me.  
**

 **Thanks for reading! (?)**

 **xLazyxWriterx**


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